


Leaving

by Southern_Natter



Series: What Orlais Doesn't Know [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Banter, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Wedded bliss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-25 20:09:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13842105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Southern_Natter/pseuds/Southern_Natter
Summary: The Hero of Ferelden spends one last morning with her husband before she leaves to find a cure for the Taint.





	Leaving

Alistair flinched as his bare feet hit the cold, stone floor. The room was lit only by the gaze of the moon pouring in through a crack in the heavy drapes. He hobbled over to the wooden door and eased it open, hoping that the creaking hinges didn’t wake his wife. A messenger stood at attention in the hallway, a beautiful raven sitting quietly on his arm.

“I’m sorry to wake you, your majesty, but the information that you requested just now came in. The Queen asked that it be brought to her immediately upon arrival,” the scout reported.

“Who is this letter from?” Alistair rubbed a calloused fist against his eyelid and leaned on the doorway to keep himself upright.

“There was no seal on the package, but the paper smells very strongly of leather.”

“Zevran then. Good, Sophie will be pleased. Thank you, you are dismissed.” The scout shuffled down the corridor as Alistair turned back into the room, letter in hand.

Sophie sat upright in the bed, looking far more awake than he. “Zevran, you said? Did he find the source of the rumor?”

He tossed the letter at her before tucking himself back into the warm cocoon of sheets on their bed. He could hear her eagerly ripping into the parchment, her soft inhale as she read, and the rustle of sheets as she eventually curled back around him.

“We have a lead. There’s some type of temple in the Arbor Wilds that has been lost to the forest. From what he could gather from the Dalish in the area, there’s said to be an entrance near the Temple of Mythal. A Grey Warden supposedly built a passage to it, but the darkspawn flooded the caves and tunnels. His ghost is said to haunt the entrance, keeping away any trespassers. He must have died before he could bring the knowledge back to the Wardens.”

“And you think he’ll just let you waltz on through since you have a membership card?” He turned to face her and sighed heavily. “Even if you do find it and this ghost does let you past, you’d have to fight through tons of darkspawn just to get to a temple that probably doesn’t exist and more than likely has no secret magic formula hidden in a chest somewhere. It’s practically a suicide mission.”

Sophie ran a hand through his short, red hair. Her wedding ring brushed gently against the curve of his ear, and he shivered at the sensation.

“You had the same argument when we went searching for the Urn of Sacred Ashes, and that turned out to be real.”

“There was no army of darkspawn in Haven.”

“No, just a pissed off dragon and a cult worshiping her.” She flicked his ear. “That’s so much better.”

“And I wouldn’t be with you.”

“I’ll bring Sten. He’s basically two of you anyway.”

“I’ll miss you.”

Sophie grinned and kissed his forehead. “And I’ll be back as soon as I can. We can both hear the Calling, Alistair. We’re running out of time.”

Wrapping his arms around her middle, he pulled her slender body close to him and buried his face in her dark hair. “This could be the last time I see you. I wish I could at least go with you so we could die together like true Wardens.”

“Alistair, if we were going to die fighting darkspawn, I’m pretty sure we already would have. Plus, someone has to keep the throne warm.”

“And plan the succession of our line since we don’t have any children.”

Her laughter warmed him from the inside out, and his stomach flipped at the sight of her sweet smile.

“Exactly. You’ll be too busy picking the heir apparent and planning your own funeral to worry about me. I’ll be back before you can even pick a tombstone.”

“I’m holding you to that,” he grumbled.

Sophie cradled his face in her hands. “Ali, this is bigger than just you and me, bigger than Ferelden. If I can find this miracle cure to the Taint, we’ll be able to save hundreds of Wardens all over Thedas for centuries. You know it’s worth the risk. You just have to keep the mages and Templars from tearing Ferelden apart before I get back.”

“I think you have the easier task. Your Anders friend is a dick, by the way.”

“I’ve always been good at picking companions.”

“I’m sure Zevran would agree.”

“And you don’t?”

Alistair wrinkled his nose. “I still think taking Morrigan with us just because her mother asked us to was a terrible decision.”

Sophie slapped his shoulder playfully before curling up against his chest. “You have a hard time letting things go, do you know that?”

“I’m well aware. Letting you leave tomorrow may very well kill me. Maker, I’m going to miss you.”

Sophie grinned as she crawled on top of him, straddling his waist. “Then I guess I better leave you with some good memories of me to keep you warm while I’m away.” She leaned over him to press a line of kisses down his jaw and neck, her long hair tickling his face with each movement. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder, you know.”

Alistair slid his hands under her sleep-shirt, stroking her hipbones with his thumbs. “And the balls go bluer. You’ll write to me, won’t you?”

“Every day,” she whispered against his shoulder. “I’ll write you so many letters, you’ll be tired of hearing from me.”

“Never.” He guided her into a slow, deep kiss, one that curled her toes and stopped his heart. “I love you, Mrs. Theirin.”

She smirked. “I know.”


End file.
